This year, due to my son's knee injury in football and a combination of other factors, I could not go deer hunting.
Even though I know that an ENTIRE group of women at my church pray against me every year, I have for the most part had success.
Now I know, I don't hunt to put food on the table, those days are mostly long gone, but it is good to have some fresh deer steaks, chops and sausages. I will miss that this year.
More than the meat is the hunt itself. I have hunted Eastern Oregon and Western Oregon over the years and I find myself today, reminiscing about some of the fantastic times I had hunting with my Grandpa, Dad and Uncle over East.
Long walks through canyons and arroyos, with grandpa perched on a nice high spot at the end, Dad, Uncle Arnold and I would try to push a buck out of that area and down towards Grandpa.
One year we heard a buck running out in front of us, knowing it was headed right towards Grandpa's perch. A shot rang out, then another. Then a long silence.
My dad yelled out: "Papa, did you get him?" We didn't hear anything for a long time, so we hustled towards the end of the canyon.
When we got down there, we still couldn't see Grandpa. After another shout to him he calmly answered: "yep, he's right down there, drag him on up here for me!".
True to his word, he had shot a nice buck and we obediently dragged him up the canyon wall and got him dressed out.
I miss Grandpa and Uncle Arnold a lot and greatly look forward to seeing them both again in Heaven, but man, the smell of Fall in Oregon really makes me want to go hunting.
I hope to make those same sort of memories for my son.
If you have a hunting story you would like to share please feel free.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
A Year Without Hunting
Posted by Bill's Waste of Air at 8:58 AM
Labels: Dad, deer hunting, Eastern Oregon, Grandpa, Uncle, Western Oregon
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1 comment:
I've only been on one big game hunt, and it rained for two days, then snowed. Oh, and right before it snowed, someone shot a fork horn 500 yds. from us after dark. It was a terrible trip.
However, I do go varmint hunting in Eastern Oregon fairly often. THOSE are the trips I love. I grew up in sage country, as as soon as I smell that first whiff of sage, I feel at home.
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